“They’re not. One of them is Mal Swafford. Remember when she hip checked me and gave me that concussion five years ago? I dunno about Baines, but you’d at least have your work cut out for you with one, at least. I know how you are for a challenge,” Nick half-smiled. This was as close as he would come to full-disclosure with anyone, and it was a testament to how much he thoroughly believed that Sarah wouldn’t actually lie to him. Other people, yeah, he knew that she lied to them like she breathed most of the time. But with him, she could never actually pull it off.
Yeah, Nick was fully aware that sometimes Lexie had a bit of a rose-colored glasses complex, but that was actually one of the things he liked the most about her. Her optimism had benefited Nick many a time in getting him to do things he normally wouldn’t have. “Whatever, Swafford’ll get his. Whether it’s from me or someone else who sees how retarded he acts.” He shrugged. He and Sarah shared a violent streak – something they got from their dad, no doubt – but for Nick, it was usually a last resort. “That’s what I’m saying too. Although if any of their predictions come true, I might end up having to beat Bradbury’s face in, too. You’ll crack mom and dad’s safe to bail me out of jail, yeah?”
Nick stuck out in this place like a sore thumb. He looked around at all the dresses and the girly music and decor and cringed. Yeah, Sarah was lucky he’d do anything for her. “If you get anything with flowers, I’m pretty sure the world will end,” he pointed out, eyeing a rack of lacy flowered dresses. “And if you get anything too short, I’ll kill you. For what it’s worth.”